


Coffee Not Poetry

by spnsmile



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Boys Kissing, Castiel Loves Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester Loves Castiel, Falling In Love, First Dates, First Kiss, First Meetings, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Gentle Kissing, Idiots in Love, Love Confessions, Love at First Sight, M/M, Mechanic Dean Winchester, Professor Castiel (Supernatural), Random & Short, Short, Short & Sweet, Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:22:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24307366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spnsmile/pseuds/spnsmile
Summary: Dean hunting for the hot professor Castiel who doesn't like poetry could either end with the professor telling him to fuck off or...prompt for fun 🥰
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 5
Kudos: 80





	Coffee Not Poetry

**Author's Note:**

> Oh written for the art requested from the wonderful art of masterofevilmonkeyness! Awesome artist! Check out the beautiful art!

_“Well, there’s Castiel Novak.”_

It was meant as a glib remark to engage Sam in a casual ‘up-to-date’ brother talk about college life and nothing more. Sam was not supposed to answer with a name, he was supposed to be clever and tell Dean he's a jerk. But what wonder!

It happened before Dean went back to work. He was waiting for Sam in one of those benches within the campus, watching college students flood the exits and pack the cafeteria for lunch.

Two months ago he wondered what his life would be like if he pursued his career and be like everyone else in college. Two months later he’s glad he didn’t. The way he saw the same vibrant college students at the beginning of the semester now practically crawling with dark bags under their eyes is not encouraging. 

But this is _college life_ which here means asking Sam the most important question when they finally meet up and take lunch together: _is Sam dating anyone?_ There’s a Jess. That was quick.

_If by chance can he introduce someone to Dean?_

_“_ Well, there’s _Castiel Novak,”_ Sam says over his clubhouse sandwich while Dean scowls and wriggles a finger under Sam’s nose.

“Don’t you Latin me, Sammy! If I find out that’s some rude language, they’ve been teaching you here—”

“It’s a name, Dean. _Cas-tiel._ New professor in the Biology Department.”

Dean makes a face. What kind of parent names their child _that?_ But more importantly—

“Is he hot?” he bites his sandwich.

Sam snorts. “He’s okay, I guess.”

“Just an ‘okay’? How can you know he’s hot, then?”

“Yeah, dude, how the hell should I know? He’s not in my program, but Charlie’s met him and she won’t stop gushing about his brain… Half the school’s raving about him too after he replaced Mr. Tran, so it’s hard not to make conclusions.”

“What conclusions?”

“I don’t know. What I _do_ know is how Novak made this one dude in Charlies’ class write an explanation of cell arrestment of immunology and oncology using the words as an _acronym._ That after the guy wrote an acronym of Novak’s name in a love letter.”

“Oh, he plays rough with students?” Dean says in genuine interest now which Sam easily detects. He stares at Dean and laughs.

“Dean—I was kidding. This guy will kick your ass if you comment about violets being blue in his eyes. He’s not exactly a poetic guy.”

“— got _blue eyes_ , check. Who cares if he’s not poetic, I can fill gaps— Sammy, why are you being a Santa Moose right now giving me all in the list with this hot blue-eyed professor—?”

“You’re an idiot, Dean. You can’t seriously be thinking of going after him.”

Dean smiles because Sam definitely is raising this to a challenge and he is not backing out. Taking his orange juice, he wiggles brows at his younger brother and says, “I think I’ve found my major, Sammy.”

“Aw, come on, dude…”

But Dean makes a mark. It’s not so much as Sam warning him off against the guy and the name actually being weird, but a guy who knows how to reject sassy-on-heat college students ought to be amusing for his time whenever he waits for Sammy during lunch break. And he waits a lot.

Sam won’t help him though. Said something about ‘not wanting to piss off Novak’ in case the professor appears in his prerequisite next year just because his older brother wronged him in many ways so Dean took it upon himself to hunt said Novak during his free time.

It actually took him a week to spot Novak in the corridor. A student pointed him to Novak who was walking alone (it’s impossible to miss him, students revel the space they make for the guy), but Dean was unprepared to how utterly breathtaking he really looks on sight. 

They don’t joke around when they say Novak is _fine-looking_ — Dean is no artist, but he knows assets and sizes and Castiel Novak is no small guy. He is smoking hot in the black accountant suit, blue tie, and tight pants— and his face—Dean becomes everything except the word ‘functioning’. He wants to throw the word ‘ _okay_ ’ to Sam’s face because Castiel Novak is not an _Okay_.

 _Bomb_ is a close word.

It’s one those literal cupid moments where he gets the arrow only it’s not a spear in the heart but a pair of blue eyes. Castiel Novak is a handsome hot patrol with absurd blue eyes that are now unabatingly staring his way. The man is _walking his way._

It’s a fight or flight and it takes all his will not to bolt.

 _Shit, shit,_ cupid talks definitely won’t impress the guy—Dean can’t write him squat, then he remembers he’s not a student here.

“Can I help you?” his deep voice is grand, a gift from the gods when they had him drink the nectar of Jupiter. Dean shakes his head—and he just has to be Mr. Poetry man today! Novak nods over Dean’s shoulder where the student he was talking to mysteriously evaporated. Dean swallows. Dammit, man up.

“Y-yeah—I”

A long pause. Castiel definitely scowls.

“Is there any specific reason why I should engage your attention?” His voice makes Dean’s stomach flutter.

“I uh… D-Dean Winchester.” He shots an arm out and Castiel takes it without as much as raising his eyebrows.

“You are Dean Winchester?” Castiel is in front of him squinting like Dean is too bright.

“Y-you know about me—oh, sorry.” Dean is just amazed.

Castiel pulls his hand back awkwardly when Dean didn’t let go. Dean just notices the man’s ample lips and he’s not supposed to start roses are red and your eyes are blue—? Castiel Novak is stunning and deadly intimidating and fits just about all the love poetry in Dean’s vocabulary—why can’t he sing him songs?

He suddenly becomes self-conscious of his face seeing as Castiel Novak is checking him out from head to foot.

“Oh, that is unique.” It takes Castiel one step before he is invading Dean’s space.

“Huh?”

“Your sunspots are incredibly visible over the red of your cheeks— and multiplying.” _They don’t._

“They’re freckles…” Dean mumbles something incoherent, rubbing his nose with mind blanking out as he gets crowded by the gorgeous biology guy.

Castiel steps back, clear-honest blue blinking and Dean thinks he might jump if Castiel so much as caresses his skin. But the touch didn’t come. Castiel didn’t have to for Dean to feel him. He’s already feeling many things and yep, definitely making a late lunch burrito.

“I apologize if I am making you uncomfortable. But if there’s nothing else…?”

Dean doesn’t move. Castiel stares at him intensely for a full minute before the professor is rubbing his black hair and licking his lips, his mind working fast, Dean can tell.

And Dean wants to kiss him. He catches Castiel staring at his lips too and they both startles in realization. 

“Okay, Winchester—

“Call me, Dean. I’m not a student here.”

Castiel raises an eyebrow.

“Okay, um… Dean, I’m busy the rest of the day, but if you have time, you can join me in my morning jog in the tracking field. I usually go there past five in the morning. Is that okay?”

 _Tracking_ —what? Dean blinks. Did he just snag a date with the hot professor?

Dean doesn’t hear the alarm clock the first day he tried his new routine but he’s bound to miss the first trial. The second attempt, he throws his phone accidentally straight to the open window while half asleep.

The third day, Dean swears his ears pop at the two sets of alarm clocks. He takes a shower first and grabs casual clothes and shoes, not really aiming to impress but enough simplicity to catch attention and then he’s out in the impala towards the oval.

The moment he arrives at the track, he’s surprised by the number of people already in the field. It’s only half-past five and there are dozens of joggers in their sports clothes and neat track shoes. Dean scratches his head. How the hell is he supposed to find Castiel Novak here now?

Dean leans over the rails, scanning the field with squinting eyes for the first ten minutes. It’s easy to lose track of time with everybody counting their breaths, and then he sees his guy.

 _Fucking, smoldering, gorgeous._ There must be some kind of mistake why blue is not included in traffic lights that can stop hearts in a beat. Wearing tight sports attire with bright blues, the messy and finger-combed black hair still sweaty from his run, Castiel is another level of hot. Dean is glad Castiel doesn’t catch him drooling, because he is. The professor is frowning evenly at the field before his eyes finally find Dean shamelessly checks out the man in the sportswear with very tight pants that fit perfectly on his thighs. Dean thinks of poetry and they all start with the same name.

Castiel stops in front of him.

“Oh. Hello. Nice to finally see you.” he says, deadpan.

 _Shit, is he angry? Disappointed?_ He can’t read if Novak wants him to fuck off or fuck him off—there’s no in-between. The professor heaves his bag up to his shoulder and stares at Dean dead in the eyes.

Dean shivers. “S-sorry—yesterday I was—"

“It’s alright. I’m sorry, I didn’t consider your time, if you want, we can move date-time—"

“D-date time—?”

Castiel’s face, if already blank, pales a little.

“Isn’t that—?”

Dean quickly recovers but his mind remains blown away. Castiel Novak looks slightly bothered but Dean reaching over his shoulder assures him it is exactly it.

“That’s…yes, date. I want date.” Dean flushes so hard he can feel it pool from his stomach up the fringes of his hairline and it’s not only because he finally sees Castiel smiling at him with everything around him lights up and Dean knows he is fucking _had._

“W-woulchu—” he sucks his breath. Castiel is doing something to his breathing that a simple ask to go to a coffee shop feels like a marriage proposal.

Fucker tilts his head. Dean loses it.

“Would I like to have coffee with you?” Castiel asks, pulling his black bag over his shoulder, “Sure. Will you wait for me? I just need to change.”

Dean would have told him he was fine as hell in those sweaty tight pants. He really didn’t mean to look but he is, eyes roving again at the professor’s skinny pants and the shape over his front and hell that shape— he glances up and finds Castiel’s eyes on him. The smile curling at the corner of his lips notes Dean’s naughty thoughts have been caught.

“Shall we?”

* * *

_Shall I compare thee to a summer fucking day?_

Bobby may find Dean whistling and reciting his poetries during work but the man is always in good mood so they don't try and jinx it. 

The seventh time they meet after one month (mostly regaling Dean’s fanatic love for reading and fixing cars and Castiel’s fondness of beekeeping), Dean finds Castiel in the running track grumpily pulling his tie back and fixing his collar. Dean approaches him casually and wonders why Castiel isn't in his sexy jogging pants. 

“You already finished your track goal?” he asks, surprising Castiel a little whose features turn from extreme grouchiness to delight, lips shaping like half rainbow that makes Dean want to kiss him. 

“Dean. You look like you're about to burst in a song."

"Right? It's because your eyes are so blue-"

Castiel rolls his eyes. "I need coffee, Dean. 

"-not poetry, got it." Dean grins as he finishes the familiar words and Castiel nods without explanation.

Dean is used to that. There are some moods that gets between them like Castiel is a whole different person but everytime he turns back at Dean the hard lines behind his eyes always softens and that's enough to keep them going. 

Castiel takes his bag from the ground containing his sports gear but Dean offers a helping hand since the professor is still fixing his tie.

“Thank you. This is my treat this time.”

“Wow, why?” Dean heaves the bag to his shoulder and they walk quietly to the nearest coffee shop with hands entwined.

“Considering you just saved my first session from an evil-blue-eyed instructor, I think I owe you one for making my day.”

“I make your day?” Dean can’t help grinning from ear to ear, blushing hard at the intense stare Castiel throws him.

“I don’t understand why there are so many people in the tracks these days." Castiel tells him in a matter-of-fact tone. They find their seats outside the café after they take their order. It's still too early so there’s not even a queue that morning. Castiel drags his chair closer to Dean, their knee bumping, hands entwined and not a moment Dean doesn't regret being his poetic self in the presence of such beauty all for him to take.

The cafe is so cozy and quiet, it's early so the sun is still refreshing and Dean can only look at Castiel's lips. 

[ ](https://masterofevilmonkeyness.tumblr.com/)

"What about jogging again?" Dean sighs after a lengthy eye staring contest.

“Oh.. It's the people in the track....They started doubling in numbers... I cant help but remember them increase since you appeared.”

“I don’t think so.” Dean chuckles, “News spread fast of a hot teacher doing his morning routine, I guess.”

“Mmm.” Castiel narrows his eyes, “Well, I do have a boyfriend now so—”

Dean’s eyes round but he smiles. Castiel is friggin close, he can smell him sweat sunshine and Dean wants to blurt out how no sunshine is incomparable to him when he catches himself feeling very warm.

Dean’s eyes fall on Castiel’s lips.

“Sweet… thought I’d never know. Kiss me now, I’ll write you poetry.”

“Do.” Castiel leans forward and nudges their noses together, lips pressing and it burns with the smell and taste of coffee that is both nice and a pleasure to taste. Castiel’s lips are soft and sweet and warm and everything Dean already suspects from the first time he caught a glimpse of it and it’s making his body heat up likefire does to glass. It steals Dean's breathaway and he thinks Cas has to be kissed every day because it's a glorious feeling. 

They make out for good five minutes, leaving tingles in ther skin, lips both swoollen and breathless. Castiel surges for more, sliding hands at the back of Dean's head as he pulls him in a lingering kiss until Castiel presses a hand on Dean’s chest and gently pushes him away. Their eyes find each other. Seven dates and it’s their first kiss.

Dean startles at the loss of the moist lips against his and sees Castiel’s adorable red face turning a shade darker almost bordering to fluster.

“Cas—?” Dean blinks several times. Did he fuck up already—? His unease shows.

“No,” Castiel grabs his arm and tugs him closer, face still flushed. “Just… I’m still outside the campus and…” his voice trails away. Dean understands. Dean turns his head to the campus and then to Castiel. Half an hour and they’ll have to separate again. On to their own worlds until they meet once more destined by their fates. Dean smiles. He wishes he can share his poetry to Cas.

Dean reaches the pad of his thumb over the back of Castiel’s hand and lightly rubs the man to comfort.

“Can we meet later? I mean, really _really_ later? We can… you know… watch Netflix and chill?” he sounds hopeful.

For the longest second, Castiel only gapes.

“I don’t have a specific show to watch.” Castiel laments.

Dean bursts out laughing. Castiel looks truly embarrassed he flushes from his neck up the tip of his ears.

“W-what?” he says gravely, and it’s ironic how his face crumples grumpily and adorably. Dean kisses him again. “I’ll show you later.”

Castiel understands. He pulls closer to Dean, clutching his arm closer but Dean no longer pulls back. He doesn’t know where this weird relationship will take him, but seeing the way Castiel looks at him with undivided attention and overflowing affection, he can tell the end wouldn’t be bad.

He certainly isn’t planning for it to be one. So, when they head back to the campus and Dean gives Castiel his bag outside the gate, heart eyes on both sides, Castiel smiles.

“Dean.”

“Yeah?”

 _“What’s in a name_?”

“Huh?”

Castiel hesitates for a moment, then turns red so bad he mutters when he ends, “It’s a very sweet…name… I’ll see you later.”

“Later…”

Dean sighs and lets his grin fall into a dopey expression. He’ll love the guy as long as he breathes, long as he lives… living their life of poetry because Castiel Fucking Novak just utters him a _Shakespeare._

-end-

Thanks [masterofvevilmonkeyness](https://masterofevilmonkeyness.tumblr.com/) for the art! 


End file.
